Giving In
by CupcakeAtSea
Summary: Dean/Reader. You're Beatrice. You and Dean have been watching each other for a while but your confidence has always stopped you. This is the story of how both you finally get what you want. EXPLICIT CONTENT - this has a lot of sex. I don't own Dean or Supernatural but Beatrice is all mine. Resurrected and re-edited!
1. Chapter 1

**My first multiple perspective story, and also my first story with sex in. Experimenting with giving the reader perspective a name and more personality than these types of stories normally do, It just reads nicer the (y/n) dotted around. I feel I may get carried away with too much detail that isn't needed, so suggestions for cuts or adding to certain bits will be listened to. Feedback always welcome.**

 **I've recently edited this piece as well - enjoy!**

You've always struggled with body issues. And doing what you do you know for a fact that what you're body looks like means fuck all compared to what it does. But it doesn't stop you feeling invisible sat at this bar watching Sam and Dean garner attention from every woman in the place, as well as a few glances from men.

Maybe working with the Winchester Adonises is just throwing it into starker relief or something, but you haven't felt this awkward in your skin for a long time. You look at jean-clad thighs and grimace at the expanse of them. Right now it doesn't matter that they're strong, that they've helped you run so fast it's saved your life or that they've helped you fight your way out of too many dangerous situations. Right now they're fat thighs and you want to be one of those thin, carefree women whose thighs don't rub together when you walk. If only to save on all those jeans you've worn through, you think sardonically.

It doesn't help that this bar is actually kind of nice, and it's a Saturday night, and you didn't make any effort. Now you stick out like a sore thumb while also being completely invisible to every person in the room. You look up as Dean plonks himself down in the booth next to you, throwing an arm over the back of the seat. He catches your eye then nudges your leg with his.

"Hey, we're alive, there's beer and this place is actually nice. What's eating you?" Dean asks over the music.

It makes you wince a little. Dean doesn't know about you the last fifteen minutes you spent berating your thighs, stomach and weirdly wide hips. It's just bad luck that the first point of contact he makes with your body is the part you dislike the most.

"It's nothing. I just feel a bit out of place is all", you say with a small smile. You know it's half-hearted but can't bring yourself to muster up much more enthusiasm. Besides, Dean's your friend, you know each other and he'll just badger you if you lie.

"We can get out of here if you want. Grab a few beers and hang out at the motel instead?" Dean gives you small smile that just melts your heart a little and the idea of ruining his night makes you feel like an asshole. Well, fuck feeling like a fat dickhead for the night. Bringing down the party mood is not what you're about. Especially for Dean.

Especially for kind-eyed, silly-but-serious Dean. The guy who made your heart beat fast and mouth go dry the first time he gave you one those big, mega-watt smiles and a full-bellied laugh because you out nerded Sam with a witty one-liner. He only made it worse by calling you "adorkable" when you blushed. Which then led to you mumbling that you weren't "adorkable", you were a force to be reckoned with and had a knife hidden somewhere upon your body so "watch it, Winchester."

"No, I don't want to leave," you say with resolve, "I want to get changed. I'll be a half-hour, tops. Then gird your loins random-small-town-with-former-vamp-issues, I'm on the prowl."

You flash a quick grin at Dean but cringe inwardly. You're not convinced at your bravado and doubt that Dean is either but can't bring yourself to dwell on it. Grabbing your drink and downing it as a distraction, the bitterness of the alcohol makes you cringe slightly but at least it makes you forget how ungainly you feel.

When you look back at Dean, he's watching you. It makes you feel self-conscious when he looks at you like this. It's not often, but it happens, and you never quite know what to do.

Every so often you'll be talking and then you realise he's just studying you. Those moments always make your stomach turn with nervous excitement. And the first god-know-who-many-times you shrugged it off as being in your head because it's you and it was Dean doing the looking, and how could that shit ever be a reality?

But it did happen. Rarely and never when you expected it. Never hanging out on the couch watching TV, or in the quiet moments at a dinner. Odd times, like in the middle of telling him about some theories you have on the existence of white witches.

You've built up the nerve to watch him back and the last time it happened it lasted a beat or two longer than the time before and the excitement that normally hovered around in your stomach fluttered further south and caught your breath, but nothing ever came of it. You always break the tension, it never builds because it's too difficult, too embarrassing. What if it's not what you think?

Dean is so far out of your league. He's got model looks with that perfectly styled hair (he can pretend he doesn't use product but you've seen the tubs. He totally does), and those downright beautiful green eyes. And his body? Oh jeez.

You saw him topless for a brief few seconds once as he went into the motel bathroom. He was an amazing mix of muscle with a layer of softness that comes with being out of your twenties and still loving burgers. But all you could think was how hot and firm his chest would feel against your hands. That you wanted to follow that smattering of hair on his stomach downwards...

You dissipate the atmosphere this time with a quirk of an eyebrow, "something on my face?" you joke. Ignoring the part of your brain calling you the strangest coward on the planet for being able to risk your life weekly but not find out if a look can become something more.

Dean studies your face for a second then smiles, "nope. Beautiful as ever." There's not a trace of a joke in it.

Dean stands. You don't move immediately because you're trying to rein your heart rate back in after it jumped so spectacularly at Dean's comment. You shuffle out of the booth towards him and hope the extra blood pumping about and the heat you can feel hasn't made you noticeably blush.

As you right yourself you realise how crowded the bar is. You're in Dean's space, he's in yours and there goes the full blush. You adjust your shirt and jeans as a distraction but can still feel Dean watching you. You bring your eyes back up to face and notice he's still looking down. At your cleavage.

His eyes flick back up to your face quickly and he has the decency to look a bit sheepish. Clearing his throat, he says "so, see you in a bit?"

You nod and begin to push your way through the mass of warm bodies to towards the door. You don't really notice the people bumping into you because your mind is still stuck in the realisation that Dean was checking you out. He looked at you as something more than, well, he looked at you like something more. Something desirable.

It made you happy but goddamn your stupid lack of body confidence because so much of you is trying to explain away that look.

It was just one look after all…


	2. Chapter 2

**Perspective switch! I like the idea of knowing what each party is thinking throughout the events of some stories. I think it can get you invested in the romance element to see the perspective of both parties and how they can align.**

Dean watched Beatrice get up and leave.

She seemed caught up in herself and if getting dressed up made her feel better then so be it. Perhaps he shouldn't have made that beautiful comment. But he wasn't going to regret it.

Letting his mind wander back over the day, he smiled. Damn, what a good hunt.

Just the right amount of intrigue and danger to make a case interesting with a final take out that ended up being a piece of pie thanks to the vamps being genuine dumbasses and Sam and Bee being a fricking awesome pair of hunters. The both of them are absolute nerds but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Not that their combined nerdiness and love of obscure books was a bad thing - as a team they'd never been so prepared. There was hardly a case in the last few months that had gone south because the research and interviewing had been so damn good.

When Dean and Sam first met Beatrice they'd thought she was just some kid with a vendetta, it was kinda how people got into this line of work if it wasn't in the family. But it turns out she was just savvy. She'd noticed odd things around her county, looked into them and figured it out from there. By herself.

A rookie hunter for seven years and she was still alive and kicking. And it hadn't jaded her. She took in her stride. Not to say that the poltergeist that seriously injured a kid and his mom on their watch hadn't got to her. They lived and that was thanks to them, but they all knew it was too close.

He'd watched her carefully mourn for them, mourn for what could have been and what actually was, but she carefully kept the dark blanket of self-blame away. She put her negative energy into being a better hunter. It was amazing to watch. He envied her.

So now they were in a busy bar on a Saturday night. Sam had got caught up in some little black-haired cutie. Sam rarely did the one night stand thing so he'd winked at him and left them to it. Happy until he realised Bee was still sat in the booth by herself. And now he felt like a bit of dick.

He hadn't gone back over straight away but he watched her from the bar for a bit. It was his guilty pleasure, seeing her as her natural self. She'd been sipping her drink and pretty much ignoring the room, doing her introverted thing again, her dark hair half covering her face.

He'd noticed how she moved awkwardly at times. Self-conscious of what her clothes were doing, readjusting them. Folding her arms across her stomach and chest. It saddened him whenever she did it, to know that Bee, the sparky, super-intelligent, strong as fuck (in body and mind) hunter didn't feel comfortable in her own skin. That her idea of herself was so negative when she was so remarkable.

He didn't get it. Beatrice was cute, "adorkable" as he'd called her, but she was also really fucking hot. She was all curves and softness to look at, but he bet she was solid to hold. That her ass was firm with a little shake and her thighs had cute little dimples on the side and a mesmerising jiggle when she moved. And those breasts. Well, there were some things that even high neck t-shirts couldn't leave to the imagination.

It wasn't just that though. She had these stupidly big, dark brown eyes that showed everything she was thinking and feeling. When she was being a dork and making crappy jokes about sci-fi or when she was telling you her latest theory on witches or rougarous they lit up with happiness or excitement and it was mesmerising.

He moved back into the booth and sipped on his beer.

Bee was something he'd been having a lot of trouble with lately. He liked her, he wanted her. He knew that he had a thing for her within two minutes of meeting her even if he was quick to judge. He and Sam decided to work with her a handful of times, and then a handful became every other case, and then she was just always there. And that initial attraction had become a low, nervous hum that existed through every part of his day, because the more he was around her the more he liked her. The more he cared for her and more her smile, and her odd facts, and the swing in her hips when she walked, wore away at his resolve to not make a move. All he wanted to do was give in and kiss her until she moaned and pushed herself against him.

The watching thing was something he'd had control over. He wasn't even the first to notice he was doing it. Sam had pointed out that watching someone walk out of the room that often with that much intensity could maybe be misinterpreted. Then the giant, floppy-haired idiot had smiled his dumb understanding smile and not said anything again. He began to suspect that Cas and his angel staring habit had something to do with it. Maybe made him less afraid to hold eye contact with people in general.

He did really well at stopping himself from watching her at first. He was really careful about quiet times alone that could easily get intense. He kept his hands to himself and it was going fine. At least until Bee started to notice.

She shut it down nearly every time, with a joke or a random fact. He'd taken it to mean she wasn't interested but having her stare back at him with those deep brown eyes that handful of times was addictive, so he hadn't stopped. And each time it happened, and each time she noticed, the connection lasted just that bit longer. And the jokes were a little bit more flustered. And it gave him just a little bit more hope.

He really hoped she wanted to take a chance on the wreck of Dean Winchester. That Beatrice, the one woman who'd made him feel like he could be a normal guy, wanted the same. Wanted to take the biggest risk hunters ever took and maybe fall for him like he definitely would for her. If she could handle all his dark, fucked up mental baggage, that is.

He ran his hand over his face and sighed. Way to be a coward, able to fight a nest of vamps but you can't even tell a girl how you feel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Back to Bee's POV. I will get to the sexy stuff soon I promise. I'm a fan of the slow build and suppressed desire. Does that make me stereotypically British?**

Pushing open the motel room door, you immediately start shucking layers and head for the shower. By the time you hit the bathroom, you're down to just your underwear. Turning on the shower you turn back to the mirror and study yourself.

Practical, comfy underwear never is the most flattering, you think. But it's not convincing you and you can see it in your own face.

You draw your hair back off your neck and study your collarbones. They're not obvious, but they're there and it makes you feel safe. If you can see your collarbones you're not too chubby yet. Your gaze wanders to your breasts and you can't help but feel grateful that their size evens out your big hips but doesn't make running an impossible task. Still, if you know there's a particularly active hunt on the horizon you stuff them in a sports bra just to make life easier. No one needs a comical tit-slap to the face as they're trying not to get killed.

You kind of like your waist. There's an annoying layer of soft fat that bulges slightly under your bra, but it's the bulge that shows itself above your panties that irritates you. After your reasonable sized waist, all you can see is your belly sticking out, your hips widening and your ass expanding. After your waist, it feels like the bottom half of your body just gave up.

You don't know when you started to dislike your body, or that you realised it was chunky and inelegant, you've kind of always felt that way, even as a child. The idea of that seems absurd to you now - you've looked at pictures and you're a normal sized kid, not thin-thin like a lot of kids but not noticeably carrying any extra weight. You were a normal, solidly built child.

Your teens didn't help. Your family has this weird reaction to puberty where for a year or so you get really chubby, like your body is storing the energy for a proper growth spurt. Your brother went through it and photos of both your mom and dad confirm they most definitely passed on those very specific genes.

The issue was that you started comfort eating because of the bullying in middle school. It wasn't awful, not really. It was embarrassing and you never felt like you fit in but the teasing never got physical, it never got out of hand. It was just years of being outside of everything, feeling lonely. So you filled it with food. As an adult, you reigned your eating in, and hunting means you have a seriously active lifestyle, so a lot of fat became muscle and you got strong. You got solid. You were never going to be a size 8, but you were ok with where you were now. Most of the time anyway...

You stop looking in the mirror, ignore your meandering thoughts and remove your underwear. Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water soothe your mind as you autopilot your way through cleaning your body.

When you finish up and step out of the shower you realise the real difficulties now begin. Hair, makeup and clothing. How do you make yourself feel pretty when you feel like a misshapen bag of human parts?

You move to dry your hair first. Simple, right? Just dry it into something vaguely tamed and then you're done. You blast away with the hot air letting your mind flip through your clothing for this trip. You packed one nice dress, your 'just-in-case' dress and favourite low heels that you can survive a few hours in. Well, at least there's no debilitating choice between several outfits. It's the fitted dress and cute heels or nothing.

Clicking off the hairdryer and placing it on the bed, you move to rifle through your duffle bag and find them. The dress was too perfect when you found it in that amazingly cheap boutique, it hugged all of you in a really satisfying way. You were having a good day, where your weight didn't bother you and the size of your hips actually made you feel sexy, even in jeans. You felt like a natural pin-up on those days. It's a pity that feeling is so hard to come by.

Grabbing a lacey but practical black bra and high-waisted panties you let the towel drop and pull them on, adjusting them so everything sits right and doesn't give you an unwanted bulge anywhere. The panties, despite their expansive coverage, always make you feel good. They remind you of Bettie Paige, pulling in your hips and stomach and making your waist look small.

Glancing at your phone you realise you've already taken three-quarters of an hour to get half ready. Dean and Sam probably won't notice, so you make the executive decision to ignore life and flick through your phone to your feel-good playlist, letting the music lift your mood while you give your face the attention it needs so you can get back to the bar and let those good times roll.

Maybe you'll catch Dean's eye, maybe you won't, but you don't care. This outfit; this dress, hair, makeup and shoes, is for you. As much as the ego boost of turning a few heads might be needed, you want to walk back into that bar with your head held high and confidence in your stride.

You mean it, that it's not for Dean, but you can't help but let fantasy take over. Seeing him as you walk through the crowd towards him at the bar, you letting a small smile play on your lips as he notices you and sits up straighter as he turns your way. The feeling as his eyes take you in, and the look of desire that lingers on his face as he meets your gaze.

Ok, so it might be a little more for Dean than you first let on.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, this is the chapter before it really kicks off with the steamy stuff. I wanted it to be all reader perspective so it's taking a lot longer. I'm thinking about doing a Dean perspective intimate bit after that.**

Dean checked his checked his watch. Bee said half an hour and it's getting closer to a whole one. Surely she'd have text him if she was going to be longer?

He'd sat at the booth making his way through two more bottles of beer since she'd gone. Some blond had tried her luck but he couldn't be bothered with the inane conversation so she'd lost interest fast and moved on.

All he'd done since sitting there was replay each time he had nearly given in a finally kissed her.

His count was at four. He'd nearly leant in and kissed her four times. Thinking about it was torture. Her small but full lips, the easy way she smiled at him. He realised that every time he'd nearly kissed her she'd given him a breath-taking smile.

The last time was a week and a half ago as she'd laughed at him for getting icing on his chin from the cupcakes she'd baked him and Sam. She'd full on belly laughed as he'd tried and failed to lick it off three times. Tears in her eyes as she leant on him and held her tummy, finally taking pity and wiping it off with her thumb then sucking off her own finger. It was innocent on her part, she'd done it then moved away to talk to Sam, completely unaware. But to Dean, it had been sinfully sexy.

Dean checked his watch and phone again. Definitely a full hour now. She was fine. There was nothing to worry about. But couldn't stop worrying about her, not that she'd be anyone's easy target. He should go check. Just in case.

Dean took a final swig of beer and text Sam, "Bee went to change, not back yet. Checking up, be back soon." He got a swift reply asking if he needed help but Dean told Sam to have fun, she was probably just a bit slow is all. He'd let him know if anything was wrong.

As he left the bar, he began to think about what Bee would dress up in. All he'd ever seen her in was casual, fake Fed, or workout clothes and while the fitted exercise pants were great from every angle, it wasn't "dressed up". They'd never had occasion for anything other than that, and Bee always made her Fed get up really conservative and a touch unflattering. She'd said it was the only way people took her seriously sometimes. It had pissed him off when he'd witnessed the crap she put up with from guys on the right and wrong sides of the law.

Dean let his mind wander to Bee in her motel room. With her body, Dean could see her in some sort of skin-tight, low-cut number. Red lips with her dark hair falling around her shoulders, but tucked back behind one ear so he could see the pale, smooth expanse of skin from the jawline all the way down to where her breasts met between the low V of the dress.

Dean felt a flare of arousal in his gut and shook his head.

"No," he mentally scolded, "you'll meet her at the motel then walk back with her to the bar where she'll pick up some lovely guy who'll never know how lucky he is to know her." And Dean would let it happen. He'd step back and let Bee find passion and heat with anyone as long as it made her happy.

As Dean reached the motel room door he could hear music playing. She definitely was ok then. He knocked and waited.

"Hang on, hang on! One minute!" Bee yelled over the sounds of Aerosmith.

Not his favourite but he had to admit that her taste in music wasn't all bad. It made him smile to think of her rocking out to Sabbath or Metallica.

"One second! Hang on!" Dean heard from the other side of the door. He heard a thump and cursing then the sound of the lock. The door swung open to reveal Bee in a form-fitting black dress.

The body of the dress hugged Bee's thighs, hips and waist making her figure look like a 50s bombshell. The small mound of her lower stomach only serving to accentuate the voluptuous curve of her hips to her waist. The cap sleeves were lace and sat on the edge of her shoulders showing off her neck and chest, and it was tight enough to make her bust swell a little with each breath.

Bee was pulling on her other shoe, unaware of Dean's stunned expression as he took her in. She tucked her hair back as she stood and looked surprised when she saw it was him.

"Dean, why are you here? I was just on my way back. Are you ok?"

Dean didn't know what to say but he readjusted his face from gobsmacked to perhaps mildly surprised as he cleared his throat. But he still didn't have anything to say. He just stared at her for longer and more openly than he ever had before.

"Dean?"

Bee stepped forward looking concerned and he realised that this was it for him.

His heart was racing, his body felt way too hot and that spark of arousal at imagining Bee like this had been well and truly ignited to a darn big fire. Her wavy dark hair, ghostly pale skin and deep, dark eyes had finally done him over.

Dean stepped towards Bee, closing the final distance between them and her concerned look turned to shock. He placed one hand on her sumptuous waist and his other on the side of her neck staring at her lips. They were deep red and slightly open in surprise.

Dean's eyes flicked up to Bee's and back down, then he leaned in and kissed her firmly on the mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

You're stuck. You're actually routed to the spot with absolute shock because Dean is holding you and kissing you and you can't breathe and is this even real?

You take stock of everything. Dean's hands on your waist and your neck, his lips warm and firm on yours, his scent clean and musky all around you, the heat of his body so close to you, the ringing in your ears and the fast thump of your heart.

Dean pulls away from you, just a few inches, enough to look you in the eyes.

"I've wanted to do that for a really long time," he says softly.

The words finally spur you in motion and you run your hands over his shoulders to his head and pull him in for another kiss. This time you move your lips softly against his, showing him with your movements that you feel the same.

He deepens the kiss further, his tongue flicking out against your lips, asking for permission, then retreating again, a small tease. You open your lips and he tentatively explores, meeting your tongue and beginning a slow exploration.

Dean slips his arm further around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your breasts are the only point of you that touch him and it sends a lightning rod of arousal straight to your core. It makes you want more.

Your hands slip from Dean's hair to his neck and down to his chest. He's hot and firm under his t-shirt and it makes you let out the smallest moan of longing. You let one hand slip lower and sneak under his t-shirt, you spread a hand across his hip enjoying the feel of heated skin under your fingers.

Your movements seem to inspire Dean to get more daring, the hand on your lower back moves down to cup your ass, moving your body into his. You feel the bulge in his jeans and moan again, pushing yourself against his body as you continue to kiss him, the heat between your legs building.

You're both so lost in the sensation of lips and hands and the sensation of being pressed against one another that you've forgotten you're still stood in the doorway. Hearing the approach and pass of footsteps and a small awkward cough brings you back to reality, making you pull away from Dean.

His eyes are dark and full of desire as he looks at you. His breathing is heavy, his hair is mussed up and your lipstick is smeared across his face. You let out a small giggle.

"Something wrong?"

You giggle again and step back from him breaking all contact.

"Perhaps you should come in and close the door. And maybe we should get my lipstick off both our faces too?" You say with a small smile.

Dean gives you a sheepish grin and moves into your room.

You can feel awkwardness building in your body and instead of giving in turn and walk confidently into the bathroom. You're certain that Dean was looking at your ass.

You look at yourself in the mirror and take a steadying breath. Your heart is still going fast and the heat between your legs is still there. Leaning against the sink you wipe away the dark red colour you spent ages perfecting.

Dean appears behind you.

"I see what you mean now," he says with a chuckle looking at his face in the mirror. He picks up a cloth and begins to work the stubborn red off his face.

You finish before him, give him a shy smile in the mirror and turn to go back into the main room, but a hand on your arm stops you.

"Hey. I've not freaked you out, have I?" Dean says softly.

"No, not at all. You know me, I'm not exactly a smooth operator."

"Yeah, me either. But. I mean it, you know? I wanted to do that for a really long time…"

"Me too," you mumble your face flushing pink.

Dean chuckles softly and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, but as he starts to pull away you stop him and kiss him soundly.

He throws the cloth in the sink and turns to lean against it, pulling you between his legs and wrapping his arms around your waist. And now you feel it properly.

Dean is hard. His dick is rock hard and trapped against his jeans. His hold around you presses your mound against his hardness, putting pressure on your heated core. You make a small noise in your throat and rub your body against him slightly.

Dean stops kissing you for a second as the movement makes him moan. His head is slightly back and eyes are closed so you take advantage of it and go for his neck. Kissing along his pulse point up to his jaw.

His breath catches and you feel him run his hands up your back and then down to your ass, pulling your hips harder against his.

You watch Dean get lost in the sensations you're giving him. The kisses links and nips on his neck making his breath catch and the slow, persistent rocking of your body against him drawing small gasps every so often.

Dean turns his head and looks down at you. His eyes are brimming with desire and it quickens your heart rate yet again.

You know what's about to happen and suddenly your mind starts to pull itself out of the moment. What if he doesn't like how you touch him? What if he's disappointed by you naked? Is he just after a warm body? Any body? And you're the easiest?

You try to forget about it, to just look at him and see his lust, feel his lust and stop being an idiot.

"You know what I want?" Dean asks seductively. "I want to peel this dress off you real fucking slow and kiss every inch of you."

"Yes." You gasp.

He strokes his fingers across your collarbone and down to your breasts where they peak out of your dress. He draws delicate patterns there, raising goosebumps and thankfully quieting your thoughts.

Pushing off the sink Dean guides you backwards into the centre of the room. He bends and kisses your neck, nipping once then moving his body so he stands behind you. He pulls your hair to one side gently and places another kiss on the exposed side of your neck and runs his hands down your sides. Then moves to the zip on the back of your dress and all you want is to rip this fucking suffocatingly tight dress off and throw yourself on him.

But Dean seems determined to take his time with you. And as he starts to unzip you he places a kiss against the newly exposed skin. Inch by inch all the way down your spine, stopping at the top of your panties.

He straightens up and slowly pushes the straps off your shoulders, kissing each one in turn, then drags it slowly down your body. It's tight on your hips so you place your hands either side and wiggle out of it, letting it fall to the floor.

Dean moves round to the front of you and takes a step back, staring at every inch of you.

"Fuck, Bee. You're so damn beautiful."

He staring and his praise make you close your eyes and shake your head. You're not beautiful, you're okay. You're passable at best. If he just keeps touching you instead of looking you can forget about your extra weight and just feel. But he keeps wanting to see you and it's so very hard to deal with.

"Hey, look at me."

You gaze up at him waiting for some kind of admonishment for rejecting his praise but instead, Dean just keeps your gaze as he removes his outer shirt and dropping it to the floor.

"I mean it. You're amazing, Bee. Believe me."

Then he goes for the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulls it up and over his head.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it."

He shrugs his shoulders and gestures to himself. Your eyes roam his chest taking in every little detail. The endless scars, the bruises from today, the faint smattering of chest hair but most of all the solid miles of muscles that you see working as he finishes removing his top.

"But I trust you. I trust you to see me."

Dean keeps looking at you as he kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks. As he straightens up his hands move to his belt and you swallow with nervous excitement and bite your lip.

His slow, fearless strip completely removed you from whatever dark corner it went to and now all you can think is how much you want to touch Dean. You step forward and reach towards his belt.

"I trust you too, Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

**Lots of sex in this chapter. Detailed, intimate, and I hope, pretty damned hot. Enjoy.**

Dean lets you tug at his belt, watching as you undo it, pop open the button of his jeans and slowly draw the zipper down. As you push the jeans from his hips you lean up and kiss him with heat and tongue, pouring every bit of your need into it. He returns it with fervour, grabbing your hips and turning you towards the bed.

"Lie down." It's not a command, it's a request and you acquiesce without a second thought.

You kick off your shoes and crawl onto the bed, letting Dean look at your ass before you turn over onto your back, leaning up on your elbows. Dean moves up the bed towards you, kissing his way up your body. Making brief but important stops at your calf, your thigh, your stomach, between your breasts and finally, your neck.

You gasp at each one of his kisses, the sensations making your sex thrum. Making you wet. You can feel it now, and you press your thighs together to try and get some friction for the yearning need building within you.

Dean hovers above you looking at your face. His lips are swollen and he has a flush on his face. He looks perfect. All you want is the next sensation, so you reach behind you, unhook your bra and toss it aside.

Dean groans and leans down to kiss from one nipple to the other, hardening them and drowning you in more pleasure. He focuses on one, licking around before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You arch to the sensation, gasping and moving a hand into his hair, running your fingers over his scalp. He adds just a hint of teeth and you moan loudly bucking your hips upwards but finding no relief.

Dean moves over to your other nipple, repeating the motions and drawing another loud moan from you.

"Like that, huh?" He mumbles between your breasts. You glance down and he smirks up at you.

"I think I really like what you do with your mouth," you say breathlessly.

"Well, I aim to please."

Dean kisses down your stomach to the top of your panties before sitting up and slowly pulling them down. You lift your hips to help, focussing on the look of open desire on Dean's face rather than the way you stomach rolls as you move.

Dean sits back and looks down at you. You watch him as his eyes roam your pale skin. You take in his heavy breathing and the line of his hardness pressed against his boxers. You want to touch and start to sit up but he moves between your legs gently pushing apart you thighs before looking up at you.

"Can I?"

You nod and he begins kissing down your inner thigh. It makes you writhe against the bed. You're torn between feeling uncomfortable at someone touching your most hated body part, and moaning out Dean's name as the touch of his lips hasn't got anywhere near your centre.

You're so wet, you know that Dean can see it and how flushed you must be. How can he be such a damn tease?! Just fucking do it already!

Just as the thought crosses your mind Dean licks a single line up your centre. Then he slowly parts you and laps at you, focussing on your clit. The feeling is incredible and you can already feel it building your orgasm. He knows just how to work you and the fact that his mouth on you is so perfect, so right, makes you moan again.

He licks at you and it feel like worship. Every swipe of his tongue adds to the building pleasure in your gut. It pulls your body taught, rips moans from you mouth and begins to stutter your hips towards his mouth.

You're so close so fast, it's not like you and you're not sure you can handle the intensity. A clever flick of his tongue and Dean pushes you closer to the edge. He does it again and your hands grab the sheets. Your orgasm is so close but the fall into that bliss remains just out of reach.

Then you hear and feel Dean moan against you and the sound is all it takes to send you falling, pulsing, groaning through one of your most intense orgasms.

Dean works you through it. Holding your hips, slowing his movements as the waves of your orgasm recede. He continues with small gentle licks at your core that make your entire body twitch, until you thread a hand in his hair to move him away for your oversensitive clit.

He moves up to your body and gently kisses you. It's slow and sensual and you taste yourself on his lips. Your whole body feels warm and relaxed but Dean's hand stroking your hip gives you a small flare of arousal you weren't expecting so soon.

Feeling confident you push and roll Dean onto his back and hover over him. He looks surprised but the look is quickly replaced with lust as he brings your head down to kiss you.

Dean's hard cock lies against his stomach, hot and heavy, just below your dripping wet lips. You press yourself to him and let his hardness slide along you, rubbing your clit in the most maddening way. The action makes Dean break the kiss and moan.

"Oh fuck that feels good, Bee. You make me so fucking hard."

He cups your breasts and pinches your nipples making your centre ache and making you realise just how much you want to feel every thick inch of Dean inside you.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Dean?" You whisper. You want to sound more seductive, say dirtier things but you can't quite make yourself. You want him so bad, in so many ways, you just don't have the confidence to say the words yet.

"Yes. Please. I want you to ride me. I want to see your face when you cum." Dean says. His face is flushed and you can tell his running on pure instinct.

You lift your hips slightly and Dean reaches to grasp his dick. You don't move to sink down onto him just yet, instead you reach down and slide your fingers between your swollen lips, teasing yourself, letting Dean watch.

You look and see him watching your movements and then he starts slowly stroking his hardness, pumping his dick up and down in time with the sensuous rhythm you set. You lower yourself a fraction and moisten the flushed tip of Dean's cock. You move your hand and Dean takes over, sliding his dick, back and forth and around your clit building up the sensation of what you know will be an incredible second orgasm.

Finally, you let yourself slowly sink down onto Dean. He's average length but is thick, and the way he fills you feels amazing. Your intention of keeping things painfully slow for him fade, as all you think is fucking him hard until he cums in your throbbing pussy.

You begin to ride Dean, his hands on your hips helping you keep a fantastic rhythm and an angle that bumps against your sensitive nub every time. The sensation of his fingers digging into the skin of your hips is a reassurance that, yes - this is really happening. This is you and Dean as you finally wanted.

You let your hands run over his chest, feeling the taut muscle under soft skin. Everything about Dean is always so solid and reassuring, whether it's the feel of him under you or his presence during a hunt. The thought is the final thing that breaks you and makes you finally believe that Dean really sees you as beautiful. All it took was pinning him to the bed and screwing him senseless. There are worse ways to have epiphanies, you suppose.

You lean forward over Dean and he surges up kissing, licking and nipping your breasts. The angle lets Dean thrust up into you and the combination of his cock thrusting in and out and the focus he has on your chest builds the delicious tension in your core. Losing yourself in the steady build of sensation you moan Dean's name.

"God, Bee. You're so fucking hot, you're gonna make me cum." Dean growls out as he continues to thrust. His rhythm stutters slightly but he doesn't stop. He leans up and claims your lips with a messy kiss and you realise that you're not going to last much longer.

Leaning back you feel Dean's hardness push deeper and it makes you throw back your head and moan. You feel Dean thrusts get faster beneath you and one look at his face tells you he's holding out for your orgasm. You lick your fingers then begin to rub yourself while Dean continues to fuck you hard.

Dean's wide-eyed stare at your hand morphs into a moan as his orgasm rips through him, making him moans and buck up as he holds your hips in an iron grip. You feel his cock twitch inside you as he cums and the feeling tips you over into an orgasm that you feel shudder through every nerve in your body.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean has his eyes closed and is breathing heavily. Coming back down to reality after Bee has well and truly blown his fucking mind. She's still on top of him and he's still inside her. Her breath faltering and he can feel her walls move around his dick. She came just after him and he wants to be disappointed he didn't get to watch her face but he saw so much while she was on top of him.

She looked like a goddess, as cheesy as that sounded. Her dark hair falling around her shoulders and the pink glow of arousal lighting up her pale skin. She was almost otherworldly, and if Dean didn't know her so well he'd have thought there was something supernatural about her.

Dean runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back off her face. She looks down at him with a slightly dazed expression, her breathing slowing. Dean just doesn't know what to say. He smiles gently instead.

Bee gives a small smile back and lifts herself off him, rolling onto her back to lie beside him. He relishes the cool air that hits his body but misses Bee and the reassuring weight of her body. Dean rolls on his side and faces her, prompting Bee to do the same to him.

"Well," Dean says softly, "that was. That was actually amazing." He stares into Beatrice's eyes and grins, placing a kiss on her forehead. He didn't know how he got so lucky, to have this amazing, badass woman in his life, let alone his bed. It made Dean feel just a little like maybe he could have nice things. Have good things in his life. Have a life, perhaps.

Bee stretched her body out with a contented groan before rolling back towards Dean and planting a kiss on his mouth. Dean had marvelled at Bee's enthusiasm for life, her strength and her intelligence pretty much from the moment he met her, but now he was more focused on her body. He knew he was about to become obsessed with every inch of it.

He'd touched and tasted and experienced so much of her but he wanted to memorise her. He wanted to become the expert in the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist and the sumptuous swell of her backside. He still hadn't had the chance to see if she had those damned cute thigh dimples he imagined.

"I really do trust you, you know," Bee said quietly, pulling him from his thoughts. "I'm never normally so assertive in bed but I looked at you and I sort of felt. I don't know, capable. Sort of free, and sexy, I guess."

"Because you are sexy." Dean leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose, making her wrinkle it up in mock disgust. It was adorable. "And clever, and funny, and a dork, and somehow terrifying when you need to be."

Bee laughed. She closed her eyes and laughed long and loud and as Dean watched, his heart swelled.

Dean and Beatrice kissed and talked and held each other for a long while. Until each of them found it hard to keep their eyes open or stifle the yawns anymore. Bee snuggled into him, lifting a leg and resting it across him, drawing him closer to her. Wrapping him up in warmth and comfort he hasn't felt in years.

Dean strokes his hand down Bee's thigh and smiles. He was right. Dimples.


	8. Chapter 8

Stretching your body against the warm form behind you feels luxurious and draws a satisfied noise from your throat. Your movement making the arm around your waist pulling you a fraction closer and the owner of that arm to snuggle into your neck.

You smile. You almost want to laugh. Dean is with you, in your bed. And you're both very naked.

You let your mind wander back to last night. How Dean had quieted all your fears and self-consciousness, how you'd pushed him down onto the bed and screwed his brains out. It was almost too incredible to believe it'd happened. That Dean wanted you. He _wanted_ you. He wanted _you_.

And after? He hadn't gone anywhere, you hadn't curled in on yourself and stopped talking. No, you'd just existed together. It was intimate and safe. All you thought about was the way he touched you, not where. How his attentive touches and cuddles in the afterglow were quiet reassurances of giving in to it. That you weren't crazy when you thought he stared and that, hell yes, he'd nearly kissed you before.

You feel a little irritated at past you. Not taking a chance because of the conviction that no one wanted a woman like you. And the tear down you'd given yourself in the mirror just felt all the crueller when compared to the absolute reverence Dean had shown your body.

How was it possible to be so dismissive of yourself but then to have someone show they thought so very differently? Dean spoke of his attraction and his arousal with every movement. There was no hesitation in how he approached you.

Then there was his strip. He'd looked you dead in the eye and without an ounce of fear shown his body to you. Offered himself without a trace of fear at rejection. Well, he is an absolute god in human form. Those shoulders, that ass, that jawline. He was made to be a fricking model or some shit.

"Mornin' ", comes Dean muffled, gravely voice. His breath tickling your neck and prompting you to turn over and face him.

Leaning on one elbow, Dean looks down at you, his eyes raking down your chest to where the sheets are caught in a bunch around your waist. This is new. This openness in showing any part of your body, but recalling last night has given you a calm raft of confidence in your normal tumulous sea of self-loathing. And, by God, you're going to cling to it with everything you have.

You're so aware of your bare chest and the effect his gaze has. Your nipples are taut against the cool air and you feel a soft wave of goosebumps run over your body. His eyes wander back to your face and he studies your eyes for a few seconds before returning to your breasts.

"Like something you see, Winchester?" You tease, giving him a smile and a waggle of your eyebrows. You can't help breaking the tension slightly, it was starting to get a bit much with all the staring. He's definitely been taking lessons from Cas.

"Wow, the eyebrows? Seriously? You should have pulled that move months ago, I'd have been putty."

"I only unleash them on the unsuspecting. They're powerful and must only be used when needed." You grin at Dean's chuckle and sigh. Then, keeping eye contact, he slowly leans down and takes the nub of your nipple in his mouth. He nibbles at it and it makes you writhe and shoots arousal throughout your body. You let out a soft moan hidden in a gasp.

Seeing your reaction Dean moves his hand to cup your other breast and begins teasing you in earnest. Working from one side to the other, alternating sucks, licks, nips and blowing air. You've always had sensitive nipples, it's always been a go-to for past lovers to work you up, but none of them ever focussed on them for so long. It was maddening. It was turning you on so much you felt the impulse to push Dean on his back and take what you wanted. Again.

Just as you place your hands on his shoulder to push him over there's a knock at the door.

Goddamnit.

The hammering on the door continues. "Dean? Bee? You in there?" calls Sam. You both look at each other.

Sam has no idea what happened in here, no idea you'd crossed this line. How does Dean feel about him knowing? How are you going to tell him? By sauntering over to the door and opening it wearing nothing but a bed sheet?

The thought cripples you, you can feel the panic. What if Sam's repulsed by the idea? No, he wouldn't be. But he probably is, he's just too nice to show it. It'll be the pity eyes instead then.

The negative voices, the berating - it starts to build and you feel tears prick your eyes at the hateful words spinning around your head. Jumping out of bed you run to the bathroom and slam the door.

You slap the lock across making sure Dean doesn't follow, then grip the sink as you stare into the mirror at your flushed face and mussed hair. Seeing how quickly Dean undid you, how wanton he made you look. But the fear in your eyes takes away that novelty and you feel tears start to spill.

You don't want to be like this. You don't want your self-hate to consume the good things in your life. But it's eaten away at memories and moments. Moments like this, where instead of feeling cherished and happy you let out this hateful banshee to scream about your head.

Being heard on yourself has always come naturally. From a young age, you always worried about how you did at school, what the teachers thought, if your parents were happy. You were so busy trying to get the pleased looks on their faces that you didn't think about if you were having fun. After that, you accidentally found yourself as a hunter. You sort of fell into it, and at first, it scared you, but you found you were good at it. You found that when faced with scary shit, you didn't just shut down or run away, you fought back - hard.

That thought makes everything you're doing now sting. Hiding from a guy you really like because you're afraid his brother might not think you two being together is ok? What the actual hell?

You look in the mirror and see your anger behind the tears. You breathe. Deep and slow. In. And out. Close your eyes, and again. And again, again, again, until you start to calm.

This is the Bee you want to be. Calm, in control and putting that dumbass insecurity banshee back in her dank, little corner. It's hard to do, so hard, because not screaming obscenities at yourself in your own head leaves only one other direction to go - being nice. That might be even more terrifying.

Wiping your eyes you turn on the shower and step under the warm, soothing spray. Appreciative of Dean leaving you alone, hoping he just thinks you ran in here to beat him to it.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean stares at the bathroom door as it slams shut and the sound of the lock follows. Taken aback by how fast Bee untangled herself from him and bolted, he sighs and lies back into the bed. It makes him feel uneasy like he did something wrong, but she'd seemed so happy in bed with him just moments ago. Where did it go wrong?

"Dean? Bee?" yelled Sam.

Ah, that'd be it. Dean sighed again and rolled out of bed towards the door, grabbing his boxers on the way. Sam had just cockblocked him - what an amazing start to the day.

"What's up, Sammy? What d'ya want?" Dean yells back, unlocking the door. He opens it to reveal a rather distressed Sam, who is obviously sporting a hangover. But, if the hickey on his neck is anything to go by, he had a very fun night.

"What the hell, Dean? I just got back, the rooms empty and neither of you two are answering your phones. You know better than this, Dean. I thought something had happened. Are you ok? Is Bea in there too?" Sam pauses, looking Dean up and down. "Dude, why are you naked?"

"I'm not naked; I'm wearing boxers", Dean jibes back, but he can feel his face colour a little.

He hadn't really given any thought to what Sam might think of him and Bee getting it together. While they'd never directly talked about how Dean felt about Bee, he knew Sam knew. He'd made sarcastic comments about Dean's staring after her, saying "Cas must really be rubbing off on you", and had rolled his eyes once and said "why don't you just tell her?" when Dean had been going on about how awesome Bea had been on a hunt, but he'd never directly asked him about it. Dean was thankful for that because he didn't really know how to articulate how he felt about Bee because that mainly involved wanting to screw her until she screamed his name or simply calling her awesome all the time. Dean didn't want to sit down with his brother and talk about his feelings on any day of the week, let alone feelings that were so sexually charged. It was scary enough to have feelings for someone, nevermind talking about them. Nevermind acting on them…

Sam's eyes go wide with understanding and then he smirks, "finally happened then, huh?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

Sam fixes Dean with a look that says "seriously", but clearly his hangover was pretty intense because he simply rolls his eyes at Dean's defiant face.

"Fine. Don't talk to me about it. But please don't screw with her feelings, Dean. You might be my brother, but I will kick your ass if you hurt her."

With that, Sam turns and wanders off back in the direction of their room, leaving Dean feeling off-kilter with the realisation that Sam thought he'd be a dick to Bee, and that he couldn't just get dressed and walk away from this. Not that he wanted to, it was just strange to not have the option. This is what he wanted though, right? Bee was everything he knew he needed and wanted in a partner. She was super smart, funny as hell, tough as fuck, wasn't afraid to sass him and was extremely hot.

Thinking about his "type" in the months since Bee had come into his life, Dean knew he'd gone for women with little waists and big hair for a reason. They were safe, easy enough to come by and acted as camouflage for his desire. He'd used them as a pressure release when his thoughts of Bee had become too regular and jerking off in the shower just didn't cut it anymore. He knew he chose those girls because they didn't remind him of Bee. They had sharper angles and harder planes than he wanted to hold. They weren't sharp, that wasn't a fair thing to say at all, they were just sharper than the luscious Bea. And as often as he'd fallen into the arms of a beautiful size 6, he'd never been satisfied because they weren't her and he couldn't grab hold of the ass he'd been watching walk out of rooms for months on end.

His attraction to Bee wasn't out of the ordinary, not the physical part anyway. It's not like he didn't like women with curves, because, my God, he did. He loved women, period. And yeah, maybe a few guys because Dean wasn't one to deny himself good sex and if someone was hot, he'd damn well hit that. He'd indulged in every type of woman he wanted to over the years, and a handful of men. Tall, short, thin, fat, athletic, strong, petite, every skin color, every hair color. Thin women were great - amazing - but sometimes he didn't want a woman he felt he had to be careful with. Bigger women made him feel powerful in bed like he'd tamed something a bit wild, even if she was shy and gentle. Their curves filled his hands so right and the softness of their thighs and stomachs was just perfect for him.

Dean didn't really know what it was about women shaped like Bee. He felt more equal to them in bed, like he didn't have to take the lead, even though he usually did. His favourite thing was to have a thick woman on top, riding him, sometimes pinning his hands down, taking what she wanted while he did his best to please her. The fact that Bea had rolled him over and ridden him last night was the hottest part of it. Remembering the way she'd writhed on top of him as she came made Dean hard again now and he really wished she hadn't locked the door. He really wanted to join her under the water, kiss her senseless then kneel down and lick her until she shook through an orgasm. And with how turned on Dean was right now, he'd probably cum just from watching her little some inexperienced high schooler.

Dean groaned. He was in deep - they'd already had great sex and all he wanted was to keep her in this room with him until he'd made her cum at least five different ways. He palmed himself through his boxers and wondered how much longer she'd be. He briefly considered jerking off but the thought of Bee, wet from the shower, dropping her towel, walking over to him, naked with beads of water skimming down her body, and lowering herself onto him, made him stop.

He was achingly hard now. Dean took off his boxers and crawled back under the covers. He lay back with hands behind his head, fixed his eyes on the bathroom door, and willed Bea to finish her shower _very_ soon.


End file.
